


Team Players

by shiftylinguini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Teddy Lupin, Blow Jobs, Bottom James Sirius Potter, Community: hp_nextgen_fest, Consensual Infidelity, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dirty Talk, Established James Sirius Potter/Teddy Lupin, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Jealousy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV James Sirius Potter, Quidditch, Quidditch Player James Sirius Potter, Quidditch Player Oliver Wood, Rough Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Table Sex, Top Oliver Wood, Top Teddy Lupin, Voyeurism, background Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini
Summary: Everyone has that one celebrity they’d move heaven and earth to get between their legs, and James Potter is no exception. He just never anticipated that number one on his Freebie List would end up in the same room as him, let alone would make the first move. But lucky for James, Teddy is a team player―well, he probably is, especially with what James is suggesting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a magnificent prompt, and I can only hope I’ve done it justice, gracerene! 
> 
> Enormous thanks to C for being an exceptional beta, and to the mod for running this fest :)

***

James stood at the end of the bar and cracked his neck from side to side. Around him, the chatter of the guests in the crowded room clashed with the overpowering music. Exquisitely dressed waiters expertly weaved amongst them, trays of drinks and canapés hovering at eye level as they waved their wands. James exhaled, set his shoulders, and tried to ignore the steady flutter of nerves in his belly. He took a step towards the man at the bar.

“Hey, um.” James licked his lips and tried again. “Hey, Ted?”

Teddy turned away from the attractive blonde witch he was talking to, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he saw James. He shook some hair out of his eyes, before reaching out and swinging an arm around James’s shoulders, pulling him against his side

“Heya, kiddo,” Teddy said warmly, beaming down at James from his two inch advantage. Over Teddy’s shoulder, James saw the blonde witch smile thinly and turn away, her heels clipping sharply and her ponytail bouncing as she stalked off. James laughed internally; only Teddy Lupin could have so thoroughly missed that he was being hit on. Beautiful oblivious idiot, James thought fondly, then felt his stomach lurch as he remembered why he had come over here. James wasn’t used to feeling like a hypocrite. He swallowed and plastered a smile onto his face.

“What’re you doing over here?” Teddy asked. “Shouldn’t you be off networking, and rubbing knees and shoulders, and…” Teddy waved a hand. “Whatever the hell else Quidditch people do when you gather them all together. Compare concussion stories?” Teddy suggested, grinning broadly now as he leant back against the bar. The movement pulled the material of his shirt across his chest, and James swallowed, then peered up at him. He forced a soft laugh around the nervous knot in his stomach.

“Nah, already used all my good injury material. This is The International Quidditch Convention, after all, Ted. Gotta impress.” James looked away. “Lots of big names here,” he added quietly, looking out into the room. An older man across the room smiled and raised his drink. He winked, and James looked away again sharply, his face flushing. Teddy didn’t seem to notice. 

“You’re a pretty big name yourself, now, Jamie,” he replied. “Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados, youngest to make their professional league in a decade. Plucked you right out of school, and look at you now, winning them more games than they know what to do with. James fucking Potter, huh?” Teddy said proudly, turning and placing a hand on James’s shoulder, pushing him back roughly so he could look at his face. Teddy’s cheeks were flushed, his hazel eyes creased at the corners as he smiled. His dark blue hair was swept back off his face, curling back behind one ear as he looked at James like he had just hung the moon. James felt happy and proud himself, and then a little bit sick. 

He smiled back despite his somersaulting insides. Teddy always got like this when James got a break, like when he became Head Boy, or qualified for the Tornados tryouts. James hadn’t thought he’d had a chance, but Teddy had been convinced he would get selected, and now here they were, leaning against the bar in the biggest ballroom in London. It was a big event, The Annual International Quidditch Convention opening night Gala. There was booze coming out their ears, and more celebrities and Quidditch stars than even James could name. 

Except, of course, those he’d been idolizing since he was fifteen. He’d know them anywhere. He flicked his eyes across the room back to the older man, then flushed again to find he was still watching him. Watching _them_ , James corrected, looking back at Teddy’s open face. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Jamie,” Teddy said honestly, patting his cheek. James felt his face heat up as he tried to process the mix of emotions swirling inside him; happiness, excitement, anticipation. Guilt. 

_Arousal._

He swallowed and waved at a buttoned-up waiter, who gently floated a small tumbler of something green and bubbling over to him. James took a small sip― _gross, mint_ ―then downed it in one. He made a face, then waved a finger for another, this time receiving something a faint amber colour which tasted like buttery whisky. _Merlin, who was in charge of the drinks here_ , he thought distractedly. He drank half of it, then turned to see Teddy watching him with one brow raised. 

“Thirsty?” he asked, the ghost of a smile dancing around his lips. “Careful, those green ones are deadly. Just ask―oh hell, I forgot to introduce― ” Teddy turned to finally notice with some surprise that his previous companion was gone. “Bugger, she left. Well, anyway, apparently those’re deadly,” he finished with an apologetic smile, taking a sip of his own drink. 

James nodded distractedly, taking a deep breath. Right now, he needed all the liquid courage he could get, after speaking with―he felt himself turning red again at the memory. Of who he’d been speaking to, of what they’d been saying to him. He felt himself turning even redder, warmth pooling in his stomach. Right. He could do this. Count of three. _One. Two_ ― 

“Hey Teddy, do you remember Vic’s last birthday party?”

Teddy turned to him slowly and tilted his head. “Sure I do. We all rented that cabin up in, where was it, somewhere foresty.” Teddy frowned as he recalled. “Fucking freezing, wherever it was. Merlin, I had a monster of a hangover the next day. Pretty sure Vic slept for about fifteen hours, and at least four of them were with that friend of Al’s, the one with the freckles and the legs.”

“Yeah, Clement.” James nodded at Teddy then licked his lips. “And um. Do you remember what we talked about that night?” He tried to ignore the quiver in his voice. Teddy squinted, shaking his head. 

“Err. Like, the whole night?” 

James laughed nervously at Teddy’s sceptical expression. “No, um. By the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed, and it was just us.” He took a deep swig of his drink and continued. “And we were talking about, I dunno how it came up really, but like, we were talking about celebrities and stuff and…” James trailed off feeling himself blush, as realisation spread over Teddy’s face. 

“Ahhhhh, the free pass list!” Teddy laughed, then whistled through his teeth. “Now, I _do_ remember that! Quite a revealing chat, as I recall,” he said, giving James a strange, calculating look.

“Huh?” James stared at Teddy, pulse racing. Could Teddy know, somehow, what was going on? James resisted the urge to flick a glance at the man across the room. Maybe he’d been too obvious. It can’t have been subtle, the way he’d stammered and beamed when the other man had come up to him. 

“Well, I remember you wanted to fuck your dad’s boyfriend,” Teddy continued with a leer. James blinked up at him, then flushed, half in relief and half in embarrassment. He waved a hand dismissively, at ease that Teddy had only been talking about that, but simultaneously mortified by Teddy remembering _that_. He blushed harder. 

“Shhh, about that one,” he hissed. “They weren’t dating at the time! And he was...he was only number five, okay?”

Teddy grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Yeah, that’s right. Step-dad was only number five. Number one was, what was it, Plank or something, that beefcake Keeper, right?” Teddy grinned, folding his arms and looking at the ceiling as he recalled. “Old enough to be your dad and big enough to swing you over his shoulder,” Teddy looked down at James with a lopsided smile. “You have such a fucking type.” He gave James a fond look. 

James swallowed with some difficulty. He couldn’t really defend himself there; he did seem to go after a certain type of man. His brother had summed it up once as “ _older, taller and bigger, Jamie. Next you’ll be after Ted_ ”, to James’s blushing horror. Albus was still smug about predicting that one. 

James coughed. He shifted his weight, then summoned his ability to speak, presumably from where it was loitering near his groin; that seemed to be where most of his faculties were focussed right now. 

“Wood,” he said. 

“Huh?” 

“It’s Wood. Oliver Wood. He’s number one,” James corrected. “He’s um. He’s here, actually.” James exhaled shakily. 

“Woah, no shit!” Teddy’s eyes lit up. “Get his autograph, Jamie, you’re obsessed with him. Remember that time your dad took us all to see Puddlemere play in your sixth year, and he waved at us? You nearly fainted!” Teddy laughed, and James screwed his face up in embarrassment at the memory. 

“Go on, I’ll get a pic of you two together if you want.” Teddy looked at James in amused understanding. “Or are you trying to act cool and stuff? I can get it for you if you want, I don't care if he thinks I’m a total fanboy. Which one is he?” Teddy looked out at the crowd, scanning the room for whatever he thought Wood looked like. James shut his eyes briefly then opened them again. His heart felt like it was trying to beat it's way right out of his chest. 

“Um, I was talking to him before actually. He said he’d love to give me his autograph―” James started and Teddy turned back to him with a bright smile. 

“Ah, there you go! The old Potter charm, works on even the rich and famous.” He leant back against the bar. “So where is it, you get it already?” 

“Um. No. Not yet.” James swallowed thickly, his heartbeat racing even faster. “He said he’d rather give it to me. Um. Give it to me. Privately,” James finished in a tiny voice, his face the colour of a beetroot. He cringed. A mortified yet excited beetroot, who was also a shitty boyfriend, whatever that might look like. Teddy clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Nicely done, Jamie!” he said obliviously, then frowned as James’s words filtered down through his second-hand excitement and into his brain. “Hang on, _privately_? Why would you....” Teddy leaned forward, reading James’s face, then leaned back again, realisation written across his features. 

“You're shitting me!”

“No,” James mumbled. 

“He wants to―James, that’s―he just _propositioned_ you!” Teddy blurted incredulously, eyes huge. James nodded, relief flooding through him as Teddy huffed another disbelieving laugh, and continued to grin at him. 

“That sly old fuck! _Privately_ , indeed. Well, gotta hand it to him, that’s direct at least,” Teddy shook his head, still chuckling softly. “Bet that works on all the groupies. And you, apparently,” Teddy joked in a low voice, grinning down at him. James grabbed the bar to steady himself, as a confusing rush of arousal at Teddy’s expression of begrudging admiration for Wood’s audacity ran through him. 

Teddy looked back into the crowd, and James ran a hand over his mouth. Okay, that was the first part over with. Now for the grand finale, he thought with a miserable kind of anticipation. 

“So, what do I say?” he asked.

“Huh?” Teddy continued to scan the room, obviously intent on figuring out which one of these men had just propositioned his boyfriend, and presumably writing to Vic about it in his head already. _”You'll never guess what happened last night, no shut up, my story’s better!”_ James scrubbed a hand anxiously through his hair. He bit his lip. 

“Do I―what should I say to him, Ted?” 

Teddy raised his eyebrows then his shoulders in a confused shrug. “I dunno, tell him you’re flattered but spoken for, even if he is Oliver bloody Plank, and even though you’ve been whacking off to posters of him since the dawn of time, and even if he _is_ number one on yo―” Teddy cut himself off abruptly, then turned to James with wide eyes. “Oh fuck. Your free pass,” he said. “I never really took that seriously, Jamie.” Teddy nodded again, understanding written all over his expression. “But your number one is here. And he just picked you up, and you wanna know what you should say―” Teddy looked away, frowning. “Wait, what _did_ you say? I mean, you told him about me, right?” 

James nodded, screwing his face up. “Yeah. Told him I had a…I told him about you. Um.” He wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. “And I said I should have a chat with you before I got his…autograph.” James explained quietly. He felt simultaneously ridiculous as he repeated the cheesy pick-up line, and like the shittiest of bastards at the look on Teddy’s face. He couldn't quite read it, which was in itself alarming; he could usually read Teddy easier than he could straddle a broom. 

“So. You came here to ask…my permission?” Teddy queried. James couldn't miss the slightly off tone creeping into his voice. 

“Um.” 

“James?” Teddy prompted, that unreadable look on his face. James groaned internally. This was ridiculous. He shouldn't be asking this. He shouldn't have even come over here, should have said _no, cheers, I’m good thanks, Mr Wood_ , shouldn't have even thought about saying yes. 

But the problem was he really, _really_ wanted to. 

He shook his head, grabbing Teddy above the elbow and pulling him into a quieter corner, past the champagne fountain and a group of dancing witches, and above all out of Oliver Wood’s sight. James licked his lips and forced himself to meet Teddy’s eyes. 

“No, okay not _permission_ exactly, I just―I dunno Ted.” James scrubbed his knuckles over the stubble of his jaw. “Merlin, I never thought I would even meet him,” he blurted. “And he's over there and he’s so fucking big and he’s so fit, Ted, _so_ fucking fit,” James saw Teddy’s jaw harden at that, but he ploughed on regardless. “And he came over to chat to me―he came over to talk to _me_!” he said incredulously, eyes wide. “And then he said, well, when he offered―” James broke off, flushing. “And I told him I had a boyfriend, and he was like _oh, my mistake_ , and then I said.” James held his hands out imploringly. “I said I had an, oh man please don't hate me, I said we had an _arrangement_.” He grimaced. “Because I couldn't stop thinking of the, the―” 

“The freebie list,” Teddy said, a tight smile of tilting the corners of his mouth up. 

“Yeah.” James exhaled, dropping his hands to his sides. “He's number one,” he finished pathetically, as though that somehow justified the giant whopper of a lie he’d told Oliver. 

It had just fallen out of his mouth, and he’d meant to explain it straight away, to take it back, but he hadn't. He’d looked at Oliver’s big brown eyes, at the pleased smile that spread over his face at James’s words, and he’d forgotten how to speak. He'd come over here and asked the one person he cared about more than anyone else if it was alright if he let some other bloke bend him over for the night. And he’d left Oliver in the company of the big, fat lie that Teddy would be cool with this, because hey, that's how James and Teddy flew, when that was most definitely _not_ how either of them flew. In fact, if Teddy was the one asking James for this, James’d probably be on the ceiling right now. 

They’d had a fantastic row last New Year’s Eve when James had drunkenly thought Teddy was hitting on a bartender. He hadn't been, and James had been as surprised as anyone to find he was _jealous_ that someone fit and attractive was smiling at Teddy. He wasn't used to that; at nearly twenty, he’d dated his fair share of men, but he’d never batted an eye at this sort of thing before. But he didn't want to share Teddy. He’d shouted as much in Teddy’s face, before Teddy had yelled back that James wasn't expected to share, or being asked to, and that for what it was worth Teddy really didn't want to share James with anyone either. As far as _“can we please be exclusive”_ speeches went, it really wasn't James’s most tactful or well timed, but then again he’d also never really done one before. Teddy seemed to get the message all the same; they’d had rough and drunken sex in the same alleyway they’d been fighting in, rough stone wall leaving scrapes on James’s back as Teddy pinned him there. Afterwards, Teddy had told him he wasn't interested in anyone but James and hadn't been for a while, and James had felt his heart sing an embarrassing tune at that. 

He liked that, that Teddy wanted him, and _only_ him―that only he got Teddy. The pretty witches and wizards could smile and flip their hair all they liked, but Teddy was coming home with James, and staying there. 

Even more, James loved knowing that Teddy felt the same―and then some. James got a lot of attention, with his last name and now his position with the Tornados, and he knew Teddy knew it too. More than anything, it seemed to turn Teddy on, the idea of others wanting something that was unequivocally his. Once, after a fan got a bit too amorous in a club, James had looked up to see Teddy glaring at them from the across the room, his face dark and expression hard, but not angry. No, it was far too heated to just be anger, the way Teddy watched the other man place a hand on James’s arm, try to whisper in his ear. James had felt his cock stirring in his jeans at the sight. He had excused himself just in time to drag Teddy into the loo, dropping to his knees to blow him against the graffiti'd bathroom stall. Someone had walked in, but Teddy had barked at them to _fuck off_ before slamming the door shut with a strong locking charm, Apparating them both home and fucking James into the mattress. Twice. 

James didn't like feeling it himself, but he had to admit that seeing Teddy jealous got him hotter than a summer’s day, and he knew Teddy got off on it too. 

And now here he was, hypocrite of the century, asking for his _free pass_ , as if such a thing even existed. He stared at his shoes, and tried to muster the courage to look up at Teddy, and to go and tell Oliver it was off. He was probably still watching them, from the other side of the room. Standing tall, his fingers wrapped around the glass of his beer bottle, the condensation sliding over his knuckles. His mouth still quirked in that sly smile, the same one James had seen in posters and promo photographs for years. The one he’d been wanking to since he realised he preferred men―hell, was half the reason he’d _realised_ he wanted men. Those same eyes which would be staring at James now, and only him, as Oliver braced above him, gripped the back of his thigh with his calloused fingers and―James shut his eyes and tried to focus. Merlin's fucking balls, though, he wanted to have Oliver so bad, and he was right there, and he _wanted James too_ , and all it would take was for Teddy to say―

“Okay.”

James jerked his head up. “Huh?” 

Teddy smiled at him softly. “Okay.”

James blinked at him. “What?” he breathed out. 

“You can,” Teddy waved a hand, then folded his arms, “have your free pass.”

James stared, his heart somehow managing to leap into his throat and sink down into his shoes at the same time. This was what he wanted, and Teddy said he could have it. Nervous, giddy anticipation surged through him, but he couldn't help noticing that Teddy’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He followed Teddy’s eyeline as he scanned the crowd, and wondered how long it would be before Teddy made eye contact with Wood. Maybe Wood would smile at Teddy too, wink like he’d done to James. Maybe Teddy would march over there and give him a piece of his mind about stomping on his territory. James shivered. Maybe that was one of the hottest fucking images possible and James was going to come in his pants. James widened his eyes at that realisation, shaking his head and adjusting his collar. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, flipping the side of robes closed to hide the state he was in below the waist. He tried to read Teddy’s face as he stared at the hard line of his jaw. Was that anger? Jealousy? Both?

_Of course it’s jealousy you stupid fucking twat_ , James’s conscience screamed. It sounded a lot like Al. Maybe that was why James was so inclined to ignore it. Teddy shrugged, and looked him square in the eye. 

“Honestly? I never took that list seriously. I mean, considering who was on mine?” He smiled half-heartedly, and James smiled back; Teddy’s top five were even worse than his. James was also pretty sure that Vic’s dad didn't count as a celebrity, but he wisely decided now was not the time to bring that up. 

“I never really considered either of us would actually, you know. Call it in,” Teddy went on. “But, I guess, this is a pretty big deal to you, and this guy is here, and he’s...keen,” Teddy said, and James definitely couldn’t miss the jealous tone there, or the way Teddy’s voice deepened dangerously at the mention of Wood. The way Teddy’s fingers tightened around his whisky glass, the peak of his knuckles turning white. It shouldn’t have been making him harder, he thought dizzily, but then again most of this conversation shouldn't have been happening, so. _In for a knut, in for a galleon_ , James thought, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Me and you are pretty solid anyway, so.” Teddy shrugged again and looked away. “One night with Mr Keeper over there should be fine?” he said, his expression saying he was looking to James for confirmation on that. 

“Yes,” James replied, nodding. “Yes?” he repeated in a slightly shakier tone. He was massively out of his depth here, really. Yes, they were definitely solid, but he also had no idea what the fallout was from doing this kind of thing. James had been in non-exclusive relationships, but mostly only because he hadn’t really cared what the other person had been up to. He absolutely hadn’t felt jealous about it. He wrinkled his nose, then adjusted his robes again. He was more than half-hard, and the jeans he was wearing were hiding nothing. Teddy followed the movement, colour blossoming on his cheeks and his eyes dark. He made a soft noise, then looked away again. James sighed. 

“I dunno, Ted, I’ve never really done anything like this before,” he confessed. Teddy scoffed slightly, smiling with genuine humour and flicking James on the ear. 

“I should fucking hope not.” 

“No, not with you. You know what I mean, Ted. I’m not. This is not―” James swatted Teddy’s hand away, and Teddy swatted back, then leaned against the wall. 

“So, it’s fine then. We’re sorted. You’re doing this,” he stated forcefully, almost to himself more than James. “It’s…” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, it's fine. So.” Teddy rested one hand on his hip. “Where are you gonna do it?”

James scrunched his nose up. He hadn't thought that far. “His room, I guess?” Teddy shook his head. 

“No, use our room. Don’t go to his,” Teddy said decisively, lip curling slightly. He ran a hand over it, smoothing the sneer away. “I'll head out.” 

His mouth turned down as he obviously considered the impracticalities of that scenario. They had booked a suite in the hotel the convention was held at, so neither of them had to stay sober enough to Apparate home during the three day convention. There was also something about the idea of fucking Teddy in a hotel room that had had James looking forward to this weekend’s convention more than anything else; they’d not done that before. James guessed Teddy could maybe Apparate back to their flat on his own―leaving James to have that hotel sex with someone else. Disappointment and guilt ran through him at the thought. James frowned. _Fuck_. He was such a selfish shit-head. 

“Maybe you can hide in the shower?” he joked weakly. “Or I’ve got dad’s Cloak here,” he finished lamely. This wasn't good. He wanted Oliver―fuck, did he wanted him―but even though Teddy had said it was fine, something still wasn’t sitting right with James. Other people had hit on James in front of Teddy before, but James had never wanted to let them do more. Teddy had found it hot that other people wanted James, but would he feel the same about someone actually _getting_ him? There was no way James was stepping a foot inside that room with Oliver if it meant that would rock what he had with Teddy; even thinking of that was making his stomach churn again. 

Teddy huffed a halfhearted laugh. “What, you want me to hide under it and keep an eye on you, huh?” he joked. He swirled the ice cubes in his glass in the remaining dregs of his whisky. James exhaled loudly, blinking rapidly as his cock twitched. 

“Yeah,” he said before he could catch himself. He pinched his lips shut and considered clapping his hand over his mouth as well. _Fucking hell, Jamie, you perve! You **do** want that_ his Al-conscience said with surprisingly little reprimand. Great. Even his conscience was on board with this now. Teddy smiled wryly, oblivious to James’s escalating internal hysteria. 

“Sure, Jamie, I'll just pop upstairs, get comfy, and then enjoy my front row seat as I watch―” Teddy stopped. He swallowed, then ran his tongue over his teeth and frowned, clearing his throat gently. James watched the change in Teddy’s expression with rapt fascination, watched his cheeks flush a ruddy pink and his hair flicker black, before Teddy quickly smoothed a palm over it. James’s heart clamoured in his chest; he was shit at reading Teddy tonight, but he knew what that one meant. James was used to seeing it while his fingers were tangled in Teddy’s hair, while Teddy sucked his cock into his mouth, or rested James’s ankle on his shoulder before in sinking in deep. 

It meant Teddy was turned on. It meant Teddy wanted this too. It meant that the strange uncomfortable feeling in the pit of James’s stomach was melting away, being replaced by heat, and want. 

Teddy bit his lip then looked at James through that curtain of blue-black hair. 

“James.”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you really have your dad’s Cloak here?” 

“Yeah,” James answered in an embarrassingly breathy voice. He watched giddily as a slow, heated smile spread across Teddy’s face. He knew that one as well. The dimples, the crease at the corner of Teddy’s eyes, one side of his mouth higher than the other and a flash of white teeth: _genuine_. 

Teddy stepped closer, and James held his breath. 

“You like that, huh?” Teddy asked in a low voice. “The idea of me watching, while Mr Dreamboat over there fucks you? Wanna know I'm in there too, watching as he bends you over?” 

James stared, breathing hard, and nodded. He knew if he tried to speak he'd say something stupid. He wanted that more than he could articulate. He wanted that more, even, than he wanted to spend a night with Puddlemere’s star Captain. The thought of Teddy being there with them, of Teddy getting off on that, was enough to make James both uncomfortably hard and ecstatically happy. He moved his hand to his crotch, adjusted the angle of his aching cock, then pressed the heel of his palm against it as he realised Teddy was watching him. Teddy hummed appreciatively as James released himself, stepping closer. 

“Yeah. I think I like that too,” Teddy said. He lowered his mouth to James’s ear as he began to speak in a low rumble. 

“So here’s what we do now, sweetheart. Your Keeper over there was watching us like a hawk before―I should know, I’ve been watching him too. And yes, I know which one he is. He was easy to spot. Like I said, Jamie,” Teddy ran his lips around the shell of James’s ear, “you have a type. So I’m going to storm out of here. Make it look like I’ve left, we’ve had a fight, whatever. He won’t give a shit. He’s not going to be watching me for long.” Teddy ran his lips over the curve of James’s ear again, then sucked the lobe gently into his mouth. James moaned, then cut the sound off as Teddy did it again. “Then you bring him to our room. And I’ll be there.”

James nodded, and Teddy pressed the small rectangular hotel key into his palm. James shut his eyes then opened them again. 

“Wait, how will you―” 

“Don’t worry about me, I'm an Auror.” Teddy smiled lopsidedly. “I’ll abra-cadabra my way in, shimmy up the drain pipes. Standard Friday night, really,” he finished. James smiled back shakily.

“I love you so fucking much, Teddy,” he whispered, watching Teddy’s eyes soften. 

“ _Good_ ,” Teddy replied fiercely, gripping James’s fingers then letting go again. “You're the apple of my eye, James Sirius Potter, and I am going to watch that man fuck you until you scream. I'll see you upstairs. You won’t see me.”

Teddy flashed him a brief and brilliant grin, then schooled his face into a scowl. He spun on his heel and strode off through the crowd, which parted to let him pass. 

James watched him leave. Across the room, a tall, burly man watched him leave too. He turned away to meet James’s eyes as Teddy dropped his empty glass onto a passing waiter’s tray, then slipped up the stairway and out of sight, heading towards their hotel suite.

James took a deep breath, then turned on shaky legs and walked over to Oliver’s smiling face.

***

Oliver Wood had started out as reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United when he was fresh out of school, and had ended up with one of the longest running Quidditch records in the last century―and now, the title of ‘Captain’ as well. He was one of the best players out there―strategy and determination mingling with experience and skill― and had become something of a Quidditch poster boy during his tenure. Tall, burly, with chestnut brown hair and eyes to match, Oliver had always been the kind of straight-toothed and broad-smiling boy that turned heads twice. He was the kind of man, now, that made housewives swoon, and grown men blush and stammer.

He’d started out as something of a late bloomer when it came to sex, more interested in the match than in romance, but it seemed that once he’d cottoned on to the perks of being one of the best-looking players around, he’d found he was equally as determined to be top of his game there too. Romance, it seemed, still wasn’t really on his radar, and at forty seven he had a solid reputation both on and off the field for his stamina and prowess when it came to straddling hard things between his legs. 

James wasn’t sure exactly how many of the rumours about Oliver’s exploits were to be believed, although he had to admit, he was banking on at least a few of them being true. The tell-all expose about Oliver always making sure the other player caught the Snitch before he did, as the saying went, was one of the highlights of the Quidditch mags James’d kept back in Hogwarts. He’d read it more than a dozen times, turning the dog-eared pages late at night by the light of his wand. Back then, it’d been easy enough to make it look like he was just mad about the sport, and truthfully James was. He was just even madder about the _men_ playing it: strong thighs gripping their brooms as they kicked off the ground, big hands in leather gloves gripping beater's bats and waving at the crowd, James’s fingers gripping the pages of the magazines as he tried to figure out why watching _that_ was almost more exciting than being on a broom himself. James could remember one summery Sunday afternoon, when Teddy had sweatily hugged him after a scrap-up match in their backyard. Broom in one hand and fluttering Snitch in the other, James, at sixteen, had felt a confused rush of exhilaration at the contact, which had nothing to do with winning the match. He’d watched Teddy during dinner that night, through squinted eyes, trying to figure out what this meant, why a girl’s arm around him meant nothing but a boy’s made his face flush and his stomach flip. Or why he suddenly wanted to fling his peas at Teddy’s girlfriend Nora and take her place, with Teddy’s hand on the back of _his_ chair. He’d given up by pudding and focussed instead on aggressively eating his trifle before sulking off to his room. He’d tried not to dwell, but it had niggled at him, stuck in his head like a song he couldn't remember the words to. 

He’d figured it out sooner rather than later, with the help of Martin Mori―Ravenclaw Keeper―and three nights that same summer at a Quidditch camp. James couldn't remember learning much, at least not about flying; he’d had trouble sitting on his broom and not falling off by the end of it. He’d also come out of it relatively certain that he was gay, James thought wryly as he scaled the stairs to suite 603 of the Gilded Grindylow. He glanced behind him at the man following him up the stairs with measured, heavy footfalls, then looked ahead again, flushing at the grin he received. 

James stepped out into the hall and stopped in front of his room. Their room. He dug the key out of his pocket, breath hitching as he felt the soft press of Oliver’s chest against his back, as he leant over James. 

“So this blue-haired chap of yours,” Oliver said, his breath on James’s ear. “You sure he's not gonna be here?” 

James felt a shiver at the confirmation that Oliver had been watching their earlier interaction. He wondered what Oliver had made of that, of Teddy’s stony expression as he strode away. James swallowed, trying his best to keep his voice level. 

“Yeah, no, he―he um. We had a fight. He's gone to, uh―gone home,” James stammered out, cringing at how stupid he sounded. Starstruck didn’t cover half of how James felt right now, with Oliver so close to him. He was lucky he was making intelligible sounds at all, with all his blood heading south, but he still wasn't sure that was justification for sounding like such a idiot. 

Oliver sniffed. “A fight, huh. You sure this is alright?” He flexed his fingers on the frame of the door and James stared, then realised he was meant to answer that. 

“What? Oh yeah, yeah, definitely! Wasn’t about this, was about. Um,” James trailed off, nothing even remotely believable coming to mind. _Me leaving dirty socks in every room of our house_ didn’t really seem fitting, even if it was accurate. 

Oliver sniffed again. “A fight about _um_ , eh. So he's not gonna come storming in here, hexes blazing in the name of your honour, is he now?”

James laughed and made a face as he fumbled with the room key, struggling to wave the charmed stripe over the correct area. “I seriously doubt that.” 

“Good. We don't want any,” Oliver leant around him, opening the door with a click. “ _Interruptions_ ,” he finished, clearly satisfied with James’s response as he walked him through the door and into the room. 

“No, w―we don't want that.”

James let himself be led inside, Oliver firm against his back. He looked around, at the spacious bed, at the chair by the window and then at the small but sturdy table in the center. They’d gone all out for this, got the biggest room, ensuite and balcony available, courtesy of the Tornados manager. _Fancy as fuck_ , Teddy had called it as he’d walked in and dumped their luggage by the door, propping his hands on his hips and grinning over at James. James swallowed. He couldn’t see Teddy, couldn't tell where he was―if he was even in here. He scanned the room again, looking for any tell-tale dents in chairs, or the peek of a boot, but saw nothing. He internally rolled his eyes at himself; of course he couldn’t see him. Teddy was a pro, and if he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn't be. He did this sort of thing for a living. James scrunched his face up. Except for the watching people fuck part, that is. 

He startled when he felt Oliver brush past him. 

“You get that Paparazzi lot in your rooms too then, huh?” he said, leaning back casually against the wooden table and folding his arms. 

“The what?”

“You know, reporters.” Oliver frowned. “That’s what you’re looking for, right?” He sniffed and surveyed the room as well, as James’s shoulders relaxed in understanding and he belatedly nodded. 

“Yeah, um. You wouldn't believe the stuff they get up to.” James was only half-lying there, really. Some of the stuff he’d seen printed about himself, his team, his family, was beyond incredible. Albus had even kept clippings of the best ones in a bright pink album. 

Oliver hummed sympathetically. “Sneaky fuckers, aren't they? Reckon you’re in the clear here though. Convention is held here every year, and the whole hotel is warded up to the eyeballs and back again. Ain’t nobody getting into your rooms you didn’t ask to be here,” he finished, giving James a knowing look. 

“Yeah?” James replied, not sure what to make of that expression, and too distracted by the curve of Oliver’s lips to care. “So, you come every year then?”

“Oh, absolutely. Wouldn't miss it.” Oliver looked away. “Get away from it all, from the meetings and PR and endless bloody photo shoots. Get to trial the newest brooms, talk shop with the other Captains over the finest booze my money didn't buy―off the record, of course,” he added with a cheekily raised brow. “Get to meet the competition. Oh, and the fans,” he said, spreading his palms and smiling broadly. “Always nice to meet a fan.”

James smiled back shakily, his face heating up again. He was amazed he even had enough blood to be half hard in his jeans, and to simultaneously keep turning puce every time Oliver looked at him. Teddy was probably laughing at him, wherever he was. If he was really here, that was. James wiped a hand nervously over his thigh, and met Oliver’s eyes. 

“So do you, um.” James swallowed, feeling his face turning even redder. He bit his lips. “Do you sign a lot of autographs every year, as well?” he asked quietly. Oliver’s smile widened. He folded his arms again, stuck his tongue into his cheek. 

“If someone wants one,” Oliver said, standing upright again and looking down at James. “I’m always happy to oblige. You know.” He stopped in front of James. “Anything for a fan.”

James licked his lips, eyes wide. “That’s nice of you,” he mumbled stupidly. Oliver chuckled. 

“I’m a nice kind of guy.” He stepped closer. “Meet a lot of people that way. A lot of _fans_ ,” he clarified. “Some more memorable than others,” he finished pointedly, giving James a heated, appraising look. 

“Memorable,” James repeated dumbly as he stared at the sharp line of Oliver’s jaw, the creases around his eyes. 

“Oh yes,” Oliver said, leaning forwards until their lips almost touched. “Downright unforgettable, I’d even say.” He brushed his mouth over James’s, just the faintest touch, before abruptly stepping backwards again. James sighed at the loss. 

“Now. Get your kit off, Seeker.” 

James blinked. “Get my…”

“Kit,” Oliver repeated, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Off. _Seeker_.” 

He tucked his hands in his pockets, and James was amazed to find that there was apparently no limit to how much and how often his face would go red this evening. 

He nodded his head stiltedly, ignoring the nervous feeling returning to his gut as he moved to shuck his robe off. He awkwardly held it in his hands as he looked for a place to drape it. The chair, the bed, on top of their messy luggage? He quashed a hysterical laugh at the idea of accidentally draping it over wherever Teddy was standing. He imagined the ridiculous scene it would make, the two of them suddenly becoming three in such a slapstick manner. He shook his head at himself, and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. He turned back to see Oliver still watching him, eyebrows raised and a smile dancing around his lips as he casually leant against the table once more. He looked as calm and at ease as if this had been his room, as if he hadn’t just ordered James to strip, as though he did this every day. He very possibly did, James thought, trying not to smart at the idea of being another notch on someone’s belt. But then again, he thought, as he leaned down to undo the laces on his leather boots, Oliver was definitely going to be a notch on _his_ , so it really wasn’t worth getting uppity about. 

He got his boots off, followed by his socks and shirt, even managing to make eye contact with Oliver as well. He paused at the fly of his jeans, feeling a solid wave of apprehension settle right above his hands, behind his navel. James wasn’t a self-conscious kind of person―never had been―but tonight wasn’t really a normal kind of evening. He felt a bit...stupid really, methodically taking all his clothes off like this, for someone he barely knew and who was fully dressed. He definitely wasn’t putting on a show. Was he meant to be? His fingers lingered on the waistband of his jeans as he licked his lips and looked at Oliver, who flicked his eyes from James’s face, to his hips, to his face again. He raised one brow expectantly. 

James set his jaw, and simultaneously pushed the worry aside, and his jeans down. He stepped out of them awkwardly, then took a deep breath and dropped his pants as well. _Ahh, good old Gryffindor courage_ , he thought wryly, as he stood in the middle of the room, arse naked and feeling like a complete idiot. His hands hung by his sides as he wondered vaguely what to do with them―on his hips? Behind his back? He frowned. No, that would look really stupid. _Get it together, Potter,_ he imagined Teddy saying with a low laugh. 

He could almost hear Teddy’s deep laugh rumbling around him, until he realised Oliver was walking towards him, lips quirked into a smile. He stopped in front of James, folding his arms across his broad chest. James fought the urge to fidget. His half hard cock, twitched as Oliver looked down at it. Oliver hummed and leant forward, running his lips over James’s cheek. 

“Now,” Oliver said, lips moving against James’s skin as he spoke. “You ready?” 

“Wha―at? Yeah, yeah. Definitely,” James cleared his throat, forcibly stopping himself from babbling as Oliver stepped even closer. He cocked his head to one side. They were so close, James could feel the warmth from Oliver’s body, could feel his breathing ratcheted up. This close, James could see the stubble at Oliver’s jaw, over his chin. He could smell Oliver’s cologne, and the faint scent of Broom polish. James breathed in deeply. _Hemmings All Purpose_ , most likely; expensive, hardy, but not the most high market. James used it himself. He licked his lips, and felt heat pool below his waist as Oliver watched the movement. James swallowed. 

“Don't be so nervous,” Oliver said gently, warm breath gusting over James’s face. “We can stop any time you want to, no questions asked.” Oliver ran his mouth over the curve of James’s jaw, placing his hands on James’s hips. James shut his eyes as Oliver smoothed his palms down over his thighs and back up again. “You just say the word and that’s that.”

“What's the word?” James asked absently, staring at Oliver’s lips, trying to focus. 

Oliver pulled back to look at him. “Stop. The word is _stop_.”

“Oh! Right.” James laughed slightly, breathily, then swallowed. “Of course it is. I know that.” 

“Merlin, you're adorable,” Oliver rumbled, pulling James closer to him and breathing in deeply. “And so fucking hot.” Oliver grabbed the back of James's upper thigh, calloused palms rough on his skin. “No wonder that lad of yours doesn't wanna let you out of his sight,” he said into James’s mouth. 

“Oh yeah?” James breathed out, pushing back against Oliver's hands. He felt the curve of his fingers at the crease of his upper leg, and sighed as Oliver pressed a thigh between his legs, against his cock. “Why’s that?”

“Because people out there would wanna eat you alive, kid,” Oliver growled. James rolled his hips, pressing himself against Oliver’s body, against the stiff press of his clothes. He ground down against Oliver’s thigh and groaned when Oliver tightened his fingers. He did it again, harder, and watched Oliver’s brown eyes darken, his expression hot and focussed entirely on James. 

“And what about you?” James said, mouth centimetres from Oliver’s. “Do you wanna eat me?” 

Oliver barked out a surprised laugh.

“Now we’re fucking talking,” he rumbled, digging his fingers into James’s arse as he pulled him forward and kissed him. 

It was nothing like kissing Teddy, and at the same time overwhelmingly familiar. James had to stand on his toes to be the same height, which was nothing new; he was tall enough, but he liked them even taller. The stubble of Oliver’s jaw caught on James’s own, and his mouth tasted of whisky, the flavour strong and peaty, but that was nothing new either; it was Teddy’s favourite liquor. It was all so familiar, and all completely different, James thought, as Oliver tangled one hand into James’s too-long hair, pulled his head back and kissed him deep and hard. Teddy had never been this straight-to-the-point, this down to business so fast. It was making James’s toes curl, his head spin as he tried to keep up. He felt the scrape of teeth against his lower lip, Oliver’s hand gripping his arse cheek, hard, the other pulling his hair just enough to be felt, testing James’s reaction. He ground his hips against the strong muscle of Oliver’s thigh, and groaned when he felt an answering hardness against his own. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled. 

“Mm,” Oliver replied, mouthing down James’s neck, his stubble rasping against the soft skin. He moved lower, pulling one nipple into his mouth and biting down. James moaned, low and loud. He liked that, loved it when Teddy did it to him, bit down just that side of painful. James frowned, breathing hard. God, he shouldn't be thinking of Teddy. Or should he? He moved a hand up into Oliver’s hair, trying to look around the room again. Teddy was here, somewhere, watching this. Watching Oliver― _ohh_ ―watching Oliver pinch James’s other nipple, swirl his tongue and then pull away to look back up at James with a smile right out of a magazine. James moaned again, his dick twitching. Oliver kissed up James’s neck and back to his mouth. James pushed his tongue against Oliver’s, grabbing at the front of his shirt as he rolled his hips again. 

“Eager, huh?” Oliver laughed, shucking off his outer robes and throwing them over a chair, leaving him in just his shirt and trousers. “So eager,” he said approvingly. 

“Uh,” James panted. “Yes.” 

“What are you eager for, Seeker?” Oliver asked, mouth hot and warm by his ear, and James thought he could probably come from Oliver talking to him in that voice alone. It seemed to hit something deep inside him, to slide down his spine and settle just above his hips. It was making him _crazy_. 

“I want, my mouth―” James stammered, too turned on to think properly. 

“Ah,” Oliver ran his hands up James back and to his shoulders. “I want your mouth too,” he whispered, before pushing on James’s shoulders until he fell to his knees. 

James landed with a soft thud, and looked up at Oliver, as he ran a hand through James’s hair and left it there. He stared down at James as he flicked open the button of his trousers then slowly drew the fly down. James bit his lower lip, flicking his eyes down and then back again, as Oliver smiled, and pulled himself out. His cock sat hard and heavy in the palm of his tanned hand. It was long, and thick, and James shut his eyes, overwhelmed again. He pressed his face against Oliver’s trousers, breathed him in deeply and mouthed at the material covering his thigh. God, how was this even happening. How was this― 

James felt fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him back gently. Oliver looked down at him, his face still creased into that heated smile, the same one James had been fantasising about for years. The same smile James had been staring at the first time he’d slid his hand into his pants in his quiet Gryffindor dorm, pushing a finger inside himself as he came harder than the Hogwarts Express. James made a faint sound, running his lips around the head of Oliver’s cock, flicking his tongue out and feeling Oliver's fingers tighten in his hair. James did it again, kissed the tip and enjoyed the moan he felt run through Oliver. He ran his tongue around the head, hesitant to take him any further as his heart clamoured in his chest. A quiet chorus of second thoughts ran through him; what was he _doing_ here, he thought as he looked up at this man, this stranger, who was looking down at him like he’d just stepped out of a teenage wet-dream. This wasn't for him. _Teddy_ was for him. And Teddy was here― _hopefully_ , James thought. What would he be thinking? Would he be angry that James was enjoying it―disappointed if he wasn't? James pushed his hair away from his sweaty face and frowned slightly, looking away to one side, and then the other. He wished he could see Teddy’s face, could read his expression for just a _moment_ , just a second. 

He pulled back a fraction, the word _‘stop’_ on the tip of his tongue―until he hit something. He felt a weight against his back, and frowned. He pushed back, frowning harder as he felt it again, between his shoulder blades. An insistent nudging pressure pushed him forwards, gently, rocking him until his lips rested against Oliver’s cock again. It nudged him, warm and insistent, and felt like a fist, or a knee pushing against him― 

_Oh fuck_ , James groaned loudly as he realised what it was. 

“Everything okay down― _ahh, yes_!” Oliver broke off as James placed one hand on either thigh and swallowed him down, Teddy’s knee still pressing against his back. Pressing him forward, urging him onwards, and _oh Merlin_. James moaned as he pulled back and then down again, lips meeting Oliver’s knuckles as his fist still gripped his cock, guiding it into James’s mouth. James pushed his back against Teddy’s leg, rubbed against it as he flexed his shoulders, and moaned again. It made the angle odd as hell, but the simple reminder that Teddy was here, that this was fine, was making his dick throb as he spread his legs and hung on to Oliver’s belt. He took as much of Oliver’s cock into his mouth as he could, listening to his moans as he pulled back, and swallowed him down again. _I could make him come like this_ , James thought, giddily. _I could make him come right here, with Teddy standing behind me, over me. Encouraging me to do it_. James’s forehead creased as he groaned, sucking harder as he pulled back, his jaw aching and his chin wet with saliva. 

He felt Oliver’s fingers tighten in his hair as Oliver pushed in deeper, one last time, before pulling James off. James whined in protest, resting on his heels and rubbing his back against Teddy’s legs as he looked up at Oliver. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and Oliver followed the movement, rubbing his thumb over James’s lips before he tightened the fist still in James’s hair and smiled. 

“On your feet.” 

James made a strangled sound, his own neglected cock twitching at that tone. How the hell any member of Oliver’s team ever managed to get anything done with their Captain using that tone, James had no idea; he could barely think. He felt the pressure of Teddy’s knee against his back one final time, an almost gentle nudge, before it disappeared entirely. James whimpered at the loss, then whimpered again as he stood and Oliver pulled him against him. Oliver’s prick was a hot line against his belly, as he steered them towards the table. James felt the edge against his arse as Oliver placed a palm on either side of him. 

“Reckon it’s as sturdy as it looks?”

James stared at him, completely lost, until Oliver rapped his knuckles against the wooden table top. 

“Oh...” James hesitated a moment, then lifted himself up onto the table. He bounced slightly, testing the weight, then looked back at Oliver through the mess of his hair. 

“Probably?” he said hoarsely. 

Oliver grinned back at him, slapping James on the thigh. “Good.” He ran his hand over James’s cock, once, then let go again. James gasped as Oliver chuckled, running the same hand up James's chest and to his neck. He leaned in closer. 

“I was thinking more like this, though,” he said into James’s mouth. James frowned in confusion, then made a surprised sound as Oliver pulled him upright, spun him around and pushed him forward onto his elbows. Oliver leaned forward, draping his still-clothed chest over James’s hot back. 

“I want to fuck you. On here. Like this,” Oliver whispered. “That sound good?” James moaned, nodding frantically. 

“Yeah, that―here is good.” 

The table was digging into his hips, the wood hard and cold against his cock, and James wanted this more than he wanted his team to make it to this season’s finals. He rolled his hips, seeking to press back against Oliver’s cock, his thigh, anything, but Oliver kept just out of reach. He felt Oliver chuckle as he pulled away further, mumbling a softly spoken spell. 

“This’ll be cold,” he said, and James blinked stupidly, before he felt a lube slick finger against his hole. Oliver ran the tip around it, smearing lube between his cheeks, before running his free hand up to James’s neck and tilting his head down. The angle made James’s back arch, and Oliver pressed his finger forwards, gently but insistently. He pulled it out again, and James held his breath, then let it out in a stuttering gasp as Oliver pushed his finger in deep. He rotated it, before pulling away again. He added more lube, and a second finger, and James rested his forehead against the smooth, hard wood of the desk, trying not to move too much as he adjusted. He twitched as Oliver found his prostate, and pressed over the sensitive area. James opened his mouth, splayed his fingers out as he pressed his palms to the wood and let Oliver fuck him with his fingers, brushing over that spot on every second stroke. James melted into the table, arching his spine, sweat forming on his forehead as he rested on his elbows. Oliver kept up that relentless pace, his breathing just audible over James’s own. He could come like this he realised, his cock twitching, could come from Oliver's fingers inside him. He moaned, leaning on one arm as he moved his other towards his own groin, then whined when Oliver grabbed it, held it down against the table. 

“Uh uh,” Oliver said, pulling his lube-slick hand free. James whined again, pushing back against him, looking for friction, contact, anything. Oliver laughed, but his voice sounded harsh and breathless and James felt elation surge through him; _he_ was making Oliver sound like that, like he was losing control. James rolled his hips, spread his legs slightly wider in invitation, and Oliver groaned appreciatively. He let James’s hand go and ran a calloused palm over his back. He stopped at James’s waist. 

“Leg up,” he ordered. James looked at him over his shoulder as he tried to process what that meant. He exhaled sharply as Oliver lifted his leg, one hand under his knee, and rested it on the table. 

“I said _leg. Up_.” Oliver shook his head in mock-disappointment, as he stared down at the spread of James’s legs. “Merlin, is this the type of discipline the Tornados teach their recruits these days?” 

James looked back over his shoulder again. The angle was bad, and his neck was killing him, not to mention he felt obscenely exposed like this; he couldn't remember the last time he’d been more turned on. “Are you talking shop with me, Captain?” James asked throatily.

Oliver shut his eyes on a moan, a low laugh escaping him. “Completely off the record, of course,” he replied. 

He ran his hand over the length of his own cock, smeared some of the precome over the head, and James’s mouth watered. _He’s going to fuck me with that now_ , he thought giddily. _Holy shit, he’s going to fuck me, while Teddy watches. While Teddy is..._. James’s forehead creased as he looked ahead of him, flexing his shoulders. He didn’t know where Teddy was, but he did know he was here, was watching this. _Enjoying_ this, James thought, dropping his head to cover his smile. He stretched one arm out, fingers splayed on the wooden tabletop, reaching out to touch something he knew wouldn’t be there, but wanting to do it all the same. He sucked on his lower lip, then gasped as Oliver leant down over him again, running his cock between James’s cheeks, against his lube-slick hole. James pushed back, his knee squeaking on the shiny surface of the table, and held his breath as Oliver pushed the head of his cock inside him. 

James felt all his breath leave him as Oliver kept pushing, his cock hard and insistent. He moaned above him, one hand tightening in James’s hair again as he inched forwards, until James felt the swell of his bollocks against him. Oliver panted, resting his weight on one hand as James breathed out harshly below him. He stroked the back of James’s neck, pulling out slightly then pushing back in again, his open belt clanking slightly. James pushed back, fingers tense, then felt Oliver wrap an arm around his chest, pulling him up to lean on his hands. Oliver kept rotating his hips, his cock hard and deep inside James as he settled his hands on James’s hips once more

“Now. Brace yourself,” he ordered, and James locked his elbows, having no trouble following _that_ order. 

His fingers skidded against the tabletop as Oliver pulled out, then slammed back in, hard. Before James could catch his breath, Oliver pulled out, then slammed in again, setting up a pace that made James’s mouth fall open and his toes curl. 

He hung his head, hair falling over his eyes as Oliver moved one hand to the back of his neck. James tilted his head back, pushing back to meet Oliver’s thrusts. He wanted to touch himself but didn't dare move his hands off the table, lest he end up face first against it. He pushed back again, harder, not sure what he was looking for, then growled and lifted his knee off the table, replacing it with his foot. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Oliver growled as the change of position forced him deeper inside. James nodded, moving one hand back to grab at Oliver’s thigh, the tails of his shirt, before dropping it back onto the table. Oliver leant over him, wrapping an arm around his chest and holding him tight against him as he fucked into him relentlessly. James screwed his face up, hands curling into fists, then yelled as Oliver wrapped a hand around his aching cock.

“Oh god, _oh_ f―” James stammered, pleasure overwhelming him as Oliver moved his hand, hard and fast. James gasped as Oliver slammed in again, running his hand over the head of James’s cock. James stilled, every muscle in his body tense as he came, sudden and hard, wave after wave of pleasure washing over him as Oliver wrung him dry. 

“Yes,” Oliver hissed. “Just like that. So good.” He pulled almost all the way out, resting for a moment before he thrust back in again, hard. He fucked James fast and shallow, one hand on his hip as he buried his face in the crook of James’s neck and came with a drawn-out, muffled grunt. 

James rode it out, Oliver’s weight heavy on him, his arse tingling and his cock softening between his legs. They rested like that, their breathing loud in the quiet room, until James's left elbow buckled under their combined weight. 

“Woah, hold up,” Oliver laughed breathlessly, stepping back slightly. He pulled James upright, his cock slipping out. James winced, then winced again as Oliver gently lifted his leg off the table and down onto the floor. James groaned at the stiff muscles, wobbling slightly as Oliver righted him, pulling him back against his chest. 

“Yeah, you’ll wanna stretch that out,” he said, laughing breathily against James’s ear. He slapped James on the thigh, and James grinned goofily at him, before turning and resting against the table. He grimaced slightly as he felt the tickle of Oliver’s come sliding down the back of his thigh, flushing as Oliver smirked at him, all too aware of what was happening. Oliver chuckled, summoning his wand from his discarded robe. He pointed it at James. 

“You want me to, uh…” He waved his wand slightly to punctuate the offer, but James shook his head. 

“No, I’ll.” James cleared his throat, surprised by how rough he sounded. “I'll shower,” he said more evenly. 

Oliver nodded. “Good plan. Bath, even,” he suggested, casting a quick cleaning charm over himself, and the table, before tucking his wand up his sleeve. He began buttoning his trousers up as he talked. 

“Warm soak’ll do wonders for loosening up those muscles, or you’ll be stiff as a board come morning.” He tucked the tails of his shirt in, started on his belt. James smiled faintly. 

“You talking shop again?” he asked. Oliver clicked his tongue. 

“Nah. Just want you in top form for your next match. No fun kicking your arse if you're walking wounded, is it?” He smirked and James laughed, still catching his breath. 

“Don't worry, I could still beat Perkins to the Snitch even if both my legs were out of order,” he retorted, chewing on his bottom lip. “And if I was blindfolded,” he added, grinning broadly as Oliver mock-scowled at him. 

“Cocky, aren't we?” Oliver said, stern tone undercut by the colour on his cheeks, and the smile in his eyes. And the fact he’d told James earlier that evening that he’d wanted to get James to play for Puddlemere, before the Tornados had snapped him up. _Suck on that, Perkins_ , James thought smugly, then winced, his arse twinging as he leaned back against the table a little too hard. 

Oliver chuckled again, then frowned, his expression turning serious. 

“Look, you. Your boyfriend. He's not actually pissed off with you, is he?” 

“What?” James blinked, then opened his mouth in understanding. “ _Oh_. Right, no. He's fine,” James mumbled. He resisted the urge to look around the room. 

“Good. Good. I don't really wanna be responsible for that, you know. And uh,” Oliver rubbed a hand over the stubble of his jaw, then cocked his head, surveying the room. He flicked his eyes from one corner to the next, then exhaled, nodding slightly. He grinned as he turned back to look at James. “And if you two ever wanted to meet up again, _both_ of you, well that―that might be fun.” 

James looked at him, mouth falling open as Oliver’s meaning settled into his sex-addled brain. “Yeah,” he squeaked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Oliver grinned, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders and smoothing it down. “Great. Well I’m off. Not much of a one for pillow talk, if you follow.” He gave James one last heated, appraising look. James leant against the table, and felt heat in his chest, between his legs, at Oliver’s wandering eyes. “See you round, kid,” Oliver said with a smirk.

James nodded, his mouth still hanging open as Oliver headed for the door. “Oh, and.” Oliver turned, hand on the doorknob. He ran his hand through his hair, and his tongue over his teeth. “Say hi to your dad for me, would you?”

James made a strange sound, eyes as wide as saucers as he nodded jerkily. Oliver’s grin spread across his face and he winked, opening the door and walking out into the hallway, whistling faintly to himself.

***

James stared at the door. He blinked, then breathed out loudly as he sagged against the table. He sat upright again, looking around.

“Um.” He licked his lips. “Teddy?” James said to the quiet room. He jumped at the shimmer of movement to his left, closer that he’d been expecting. 

“Holy fucking _shit_ , James!” Teddy exclaimed, whipping the Cloak off in a flourish of material as he closed the distance between them. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“...Fuck?” James repeated tentatively, raising his eyebrows apprehensively. 

“Shut up. Oh my god.” Teddy ran a hand through his blue-black hair. “That was so _fucking_ hot, you don't even know―” 

James sighed in relief. He bit his lip, then smiled. “Yeah?” he asked playfully. 

“Don't yeah me, you _know_ it was.” Teddy pulled James against him, shaking his head incredulously. “Christ, Jamie,” he said smoothing his hands down James’s side. James made a soft sound, the starched fabric of Teddy’s shirt stiff against his skin. He pressed himself against Teddy, and moaned. 

“You're hard,” James mumbled, running his hand over Teddy's groin. Teddy scoffed, smoothing some hair back from James’s flushed face. 

“Are you kidding me, watching _that_? I mean, the noises you made, and the way you just took it.” Teddy shook his head again, and James smiled, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. He looked up at Teddy, and licked his lips, leaning up to kiss him briefly, pulling away again before Teddy could deepen the kiss. 

“Were you touching me?” James asked quietly into Teddy’s mouth. “Before? When―” 

Teddy huffed an almost shy laugh. “Might’ve done, once or twice.” He kissed James again, then ran his lips down his jaw, his neck. He breathed in deeply. “Fuck, you _smell_ like him,” Teddy growled, pressing his material-clad cock against James’s hip. James hummed, then blinked his eyes wide. 

“Wait, were you touching _him_ too?” he asked incredulously. 

Teddy barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, hell no, are you kidding me? I’m not that stupid. I just...” He pulled back, smiling down at James. “I just wasn’t very far away. During, uh.” Teddy looked down at James’s crotch, and up to his face again. “During _that_ ,” he finished heatedly. James’s mouth fell open, warmth flushing across his chest at the fact that Teddy _had_ been within arms reach the whole time he’d been fucking Oliver. He leaned up, brushed some hair away from Teddy’s ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, biting down gently.

" _Merlin_." Teddy closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. “Are you sure? Won't you be sor―”

“Yes. I want you to fuck me,” James interrupted. “Now.” James sucked on Teddy’s neck. “Please,” he whispered, bringing Teddy’s hand around to touch his hole, let him feel the slick slide of lubricant. Teddy made a low sound, plunging first one, then two fingers in deep. He moaned, and James shut his eyes against the burn. He was tender, a little sore. It felt amazing. He pushed his arse back against Teddy’s fingers, felt Teddy groan as he dropped his head to James’s shoulder, mouthing roughly at the line of his collarbone before lifting it again. 

“This what you want? You want me to fuck you, his come still inside you, letting me slide in real easy. That what you want now, huh, Jamie?” Teddy said, walking them over to the bed and stopping when James’s legs hit it. 

“Oh, Merlin,” James said with a breathy laugh. “Yes, I really fucking want that.” It didn’t matter how many times it happened, James was never prepared for the things that came out of Teddy’s mouth―or how much he loved hearing them. 

James gasped, and forced Teddy’s fingers in a little deeper, pushing back as best he could from this angle. Teddy seemed to get the message, pulling out and pressing a third in roughly. James sucked on his lower lip, moaning, then frowned as all too soon Teddy removed his fingers. He widened his eyes in understanding as Teddy pushed him backwards onto the bed, leaning over him. James grabbed at his shoulders, lifting his hips as he tried to push Teddy’s hand back under him, his fingers back inside. 

“You want me to be rough?” Teddy asked, his voice gentle and so low, pushing a finger back in slowly, then out again. James felt his dick twitch as he nodded desperately. He wanted rough, and now, and Teddy. _Fuck_. He nodded again more fervently as Teddy angled his fingers to brush over his prostate. He spread his legs wider, and Teddy kissed the inside of his knee, before looking back up at him. 

Teddy’s eyes were almost black as he pulled his hand free, and ran his palms up James’s side. He growled, flipping James over onto his stomach then placing one hand on the back of his neck, the other scrabbling to undo the buckle of his belt, the fly of his trousers. He got his cock out, trousers around his thighs, then plunged into James. They both groaned loudly. 

“That okay, Jamie?” Teddy ground out, rolling his hips slowly as he eased his cock out and then in again. James moaned in reply, nodded his face against the blankets, hair in his eyes. He felt almost obscenely wet, the sound loud in his ears as Teddy pulled back and then pushed in again, one hand still in James’s hair and the other braced against the mattress. 

“Y―yes. Fuck.” He pushed his hips back harder, feeling his dick harden as he arched his spine. “Fuck me, Teddy” 

He didn't think he could come again, but he didn't think he needed to. He’d just ridden out one of his longest standing wet dreams, and now the love of his life was fucking his superstar crush’s come out of him, their sweat mingling on his body. James felt dizzy, and amazing, overwhelmed by sensation. He palmed his half hard cock, breath hitching, felt it thicken further in his hand as Teddy pushed his head down onto the mattress, angled his hips to hit his prostate. Maybe he could come again, he thought as he gasped at the sensation, listening feverishly to Teddy babble above him. 

“Fuck Jamie, you have no idea, no _idea_ how fucking hot you are,” he pulled out and then slammed back in with a loud slap and a moan from James. “Watching him fuck you, hearing you―you have no _idea_.” 

James nodded again, his face heating up against the covers, Teddy’s fingers tight in his hair. Tight enough to pull, for James to feel it, but never enough to hurt. Teddy was strong―the Auror regime meant he had to be―and there was nothing James liked more than feeling his weight on him, around him, holding him down. But the day Teddy left a bruise was the day James ate the Snitch. It had surprised the pants off Teddy, the way James liked being manhandled: fists in his hair, teeth on skin, a broad palm across the curve of his arse. Teddy was hardly vanilla, but honestly James rather had been, until they’d been play fighting a month or so after hooking up. Getting pinned by Teddy was hardly new, but the stonking great hard-on it had given him was; he’d got it into his head he wanted Teddy to fuck him while doing it, and it had escalated from there. Teddy was completely on board with it, as he was with most things James suggested. Although, Teddy had pointed out that roughing James up and fucking him until he screamed was hardly putting him out. James had really lucked out there, he thought, with Teddy. Teddy even― 

Teddy even let him fuck Oliver Wood, he thought giddily, flexing his shoulders as his cock filled out fully, brushing against the hotel blanket; he was definitely going to be able to come again. 

“Did you like that?” Teddy moved suddenly, grabbing both of James hands in his fists, pulling his arms out in front of him while he fucked him. “When he fucked you?” he growled. James mumbled against the covers, rolling his shoulders against the stiff material of Teddy’s shirt. Teddy kissed the back of his neck, running hands up James’s arms to his shoulders. He pulled his earlobe between his teeth gently, rolling his hips, slowing down until James almost whimpered at the loss. 

“I liked it,” Teddy whispered hotly. “I liked watching him fuck you.” He licked around the shell of James’s ear. “I thought I'd be jealous. And I was,” he admitted, his breathing harsh. “At first. Watching him kiss you, touch you. Push his cock between your lips, and then take you like that, so hard. Watching how much you _loved_ it. ” 

James whimpered. Teddy rolled his hips again, pulling out and then pushing in again agonisingly slowly. James pushed back, felt Teddy slide in deep and sighed for one glorious moment and then whined as all too soon it was gone. Teddy rumbled a soft laugh behind him. 

“God, you really do love this, don't you?” Teddy sounded slightly amazed, breathless, as turned on as James felt. He pushed up onto his knees, hands resting on James’s shoulders before pushing him back down again, hard. James made another incoherent noise, arching his spine, his arse in the air. He was rock hard again, his thighs burning and his fingers tangled in the ugly, floral hotel bed cover. 

“See, that’s when I stopped being jealous,” Teddy went on, in a low tone. “Seeing you take it and moan like it was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to you.” Teddy had begun moving again, sharp little thrusts as he moved his hands up and down James’s back and sides. “Because it's always like that with you. Always so good, so perfect with you every time, and I’m there. And he gets you this time, but I get to be right there, don’t I? I get to be the one _with_ you,” Teddy asked, leaning down to mouth over James’s shoulder blade. “Don't I, Jamie?” 

It took James a few moments to realise that was a genuine question. “Fuck, yes, Teddy―ah.” James pushed up onto his elbows, and then his hands, trying to see behind him, wanting to kiss Teddy, but the angle was all wrong. All wrong, and all fucking perfect, and he couldn't _think_ anymore, he was so turned on. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt like this, and he needed to somehow explain to Teddy why. “S’why―s’why it was so good,” he ground out. James gulped down a breath. “Because I knew― _uh, fuck_ ―because, you,” James gasped, blinking sweat out of his eyes, as Teddy thrust in again and again. He swallowed, and tried one last time. “Because you were watch― _ah_!” 

James’s teeth clacked shut as Teddy thrust in fast, and hard, knocking him onto his elbows again. 

“Fuck, Jamie, the things you do to me,” Teddy ground out, his breathing harsh as he fucked into James hard. James braced his arms against the mattress, moaning uncontrollably as Teddy’s hips snapped into him relentlessly, his movements turning erratic. 

“I'm so close. You feel so _good_.” Teddy moved a hand down James’s belly then wrapped it around his dick, moaning loudly and thrusting faster when he found it hard and full once more. 

James groaned back loudly in reply, his own dick twitching. His orgasm built at the base of his spine, spurred on by Teddy’s words, his hand, his dick buried deep inside him, right where Oliver had just been. James whimpered in frustration or satisfaction, he couldn't quite tell, as he pushed his hips back to meet Teddy’s thrusts as hard as he got. 

He felt the air rush out of him as he was suddenly pulled upright, back against Teddy’s chest, Teddy’s hand a blur on his cock. The movement sat him in Teddy’s lap, on his thighs, gravity forcing his cock inside him deeper. James whimpered again, his mouth open as he gasped, watching Teddy’s hand. 

“Come for me, Jamie. Come on, baby, you're so close.” Teddy mouthed at his cheek, ran his teeth along it. “I wanna feel you come,” he growled. “For _me_.”

“Ah, Teddy!” 

“That's it, there we go,” Teddy encouraged. “Come again for me, you can―ah,” Teddy broke off on a broken sound as James's thighs tensed, sweat prickling on the backs of his knees as he grabbed Teddy’s leg with a loud slap. He came, again, almost dry this time, his strangled shout loud in the room. His head lolled back against Teddy’s shoulder, his body trembling, as Teddy continued to pump his fist up and down his cock, moving his hips fitfully and kissing any bit of James he could reach. 

“Merlin. Jamie. You are,” Teddy ran his nails up James’s twitching belly, spent cock softening between his legs now, “You're so―”

James panted, overwhelmed, trying to move so Teddy could fuck him, so he could feel Teddy come inside him, but his legs felt like jelly and he couldn't catch his breath. 

“Shh, hang on. Let me―” Teddy kissed him, one hand firm on James's jaw as he wound the other around his chest, gently tipping him onto all fours again. James let himself fall forward with a sigh, face pressed down into the covers. He shut his eyes and sucked his lower lip into his mouth as Teddy fucked him, trying so hard to be gentle when James could feel he wanted to split him in two again. James felt his chest swell as he tried to push back and let Teddy know he could go faster, but he couldn't seem to muster enough energy or coordination to move. He sagged back down into the mattress. Maybe Teddy was onto something with this going-slow business after all. 

It took three slow, hard thrusts before Teddy rolled his hips and held them there, coming with a strangled groan. His fingers dug into James’s hips, his forehead against his back and his hips twitching as James felt him pulse inside of him. He arched his back, knees sliding against the covers as he spread his legs and forced Teddy in just that final inch deeper. Teddy groaned, then moved one last time before he stilled, exhaling shakily against James’s neck. 

He rested there, warm and heavy against James's back, as James shut his eyes and exhaled deeply. Teddy's lips moved softly against the nape of James's neck as his breathing began to slowly even out. He lifted off James slightly, pulling out gently as James whimpered, reaching back to hold him in place. Teddy laughed softly, brushing James's damp hair aside and kissing his nape again, up to his cheek. 

“Shh, I just need to get undressed, Jamie,” he said softly, easing himself out of James’s grip and off the bed. He peeled off his sweaty shirt and trousers, his socks, and dumped them in a pile on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, then over his face. James watched contentedly through a half-open, bleary eye as Teddy turned back to him.

“Jamie,” Teddy said fondly. “You can’t go to sleep there, love. You're not even on the right end of the bed.” 

James waved a hand dismissively, settling back in. He couldn't move now, not for all the gold in Gringotts. He felt like he’d been fucked by half a Quidditch team. Which he sort of had, he realised with a start. Teddy’d played Chaser in school, Oliver was Keeper―they just needed a Beater or two next time, and they’d almost have the full set. James huffed an incredulous laugh, then huffed again when Teddy pulled the blankets out from under him, jostling him. 

“Okay then,” Teddy mumbled, grabbing some pillows. “Wrong end of the bed it is.”

He sighed, sliding under the covers and rearranging them around James, who was still doing his best not to move. Teddy summoned his wand, licking his lips and looking over at James.

“So. Revealing sort of evening, huh,” Teddy announced, twirling his wand as he leant on one elbow. James hummed in agreement, turning with some effort and flopping onto his back. He shivered as Teddy aimed a soft cleaning spell over him. Teddy dropped his wand onto the floor, chewing his lip thoughtfully. He looked over at James, who shut his eyes, still doing his best to move as little as possible.

“You okay?” Teddy asked, smoothing some hair off of James’s forehead. James blinked his eyes open. He was filthy, and sore, and tired, and he’d never felt better in his life. He’d just had the fantasy fuck he’d never thought possible, and he couldn't believe it had happened―and that Teddy had been there with him, the whole time. He felt an overwhelming rush of emotion― _love, James, call it what it is; you even said it earlier_ ―at that, at not only being allowed to have something he wanted so badly, but having Teddy join him in it, enjoy it with him, and then put him to bed afterwards. He shut his eyes again, grabbing Teddy’s wrist. He kissed Teddy’s knuckles, then the back of his hand, his fingers. Teddy watched him, worry easing away into a smile, as James tangled his fingers up with Teddy’s. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he mumbled against them, lips brushing Teddy’s skin. “You?”

“Yeah." Teddy smiled, one corner of his mouth tilting up higher than the other. "I'm good,” he replied quietly, watching James for a moment as he ran his fingers over James’s lips. James smiled back, warm and sated, his eyes sliding shut as he rubbed his thumb over Teddy's knuckles. 

Teddy exhaled loudly, staring over James's shoulder. “Do you get the feeling...that he knew something was up?” Teddy frowned. “Like, that he knew you two weren’t exactly alone?” Teddy asked. James blinked his tired eyes open and turned to face him as a few of Oliver’s comments flashed through his memory. He grinned. 

“Yeah,” James replied. “I think he might have sussed us out.” He bit his lip. “I think he was into it.”

Teddy laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You Quidditch lot.” He pulled James against his side. “Kinky bastards, the bunch of you,” he said into James’s hair. James nestled against him, getting comfortable, and graciously not pointing out that Teddy was easily as bad as them, if not worse. They lay quietly for a long moment, until James frowned, Teddy’s chest shaking under James’s ear as he began to laugh again.

“Wha’s funny now?” James murmured groggily.

“Nothing. It's just. After all that, you...You never actually got his autograph,” Teddy explained. James snorted drowsily. 

“Go t’sleep, Ted.” 

Teddy hummed in reply, kissing James’s forehead. James smiled faintly, yawning against Teddy’s skin as he let his eyes slide shut.

*** 

The Annual International Quidditch Convention closing night was an even bigger affair than the opening night Gala. At least, it looked that way to James, judging by the way all the attendees seemed to be letting their hair down. The exquisitely dressed waiters were now looking decidedly more casual, as they sauntered amongst the guests, their trays laden with tumblers of dark whisky and shot glasses filled with something even darker. James scanned the room, looking over the faces. Some he recognised, some he could call a friend, and some...Well, some he now knew a little more intimately. James shifted his weight, turning around to face the tall man walking up to him.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Teddy asked, knocking his shoulder against James’s. James nodded as he watched Teddy smile and down the last of his drink, before clunking the glass onto the counter. He cricked his neck, adjusted the sleeves on his robes, then held his arms out for James to inspect him. James grinned up at him, and Teddy hummed. He leaned in, resting his forehead against James’s and breathing in deeply. 

“Alright. I’ll see you in a bit,” Teddy said in a low voice. “And let me do the talking this time, huh?” he said against James’s mouth. “I’ve seen your efforts.” He smiled lopsidedly, as James blinked, feeling his face heat. He tried to squash the giddy feeling growing in his stomach, then frowned in indignation. 

“Hey, shove off, I wasn’t that―”

“You were,” Teddy interrupted. He stepped closer to James, crowding him. “It was hot as sin.” He ran his lips over James’s cheek. James shut his eyes as he leant into it, breathing in the faint scent of Teddy’s cologne, feeling the warmth of his skin. Teddy waited a moment, then pushed off the bar. He grinned at James, before turning and making his way towards a table on the other side of the room. 

James cocked his head to one side, sucking on his lip as he watched Teddy. A few of the bar's patrons watched him too; with his turquoise hair and ridiculous height, he tended to stick out wherever James took him. At least the press were most likely too distracted by all the real famous faces here to pay them too much attention. James couldn't really fathom what headlines they could come up with based on this weekend, anyway. _Teddy Lupin, war heroes’ son, exists loudly at Quidditch function. Partner James, of Potter fame, wearing indigo. Does this signal wedding bells?_ James snorted, then screwed his face up. Actually, he’d seen something like that before; he wouldn't put it past them. At least the press didn't have the foggiest what the two of them had really been up to. Well. _Three_ of them, really. 

James fought to keep his expression neutral as he watched Teddy reach the other side of the room. 

Oliver Wood looked up, raising his eyebrows in surprise as Teddy approached him. He took a seat to Oliver’s left, helping himself to a generous serve of the whisky Oliver had commandeered for his table. Oliver didn't seem bothered by Teddy’s brazenness, if the way his eyebrows slowly lifted and his mouth turned down in an appreciative smile were anything to go by. James watched Oliver lean back in his chair, saw Teddy mimic the movement then prop his boot up on the bottom wrung of Oliver’s chair. James swallowed, his face heating up further. No, Oliver didn’t look bothered at all. 

James drained the remains of his drink, then wiped his hand over his mouth. He smiled, adjusting his robes slightly, then took a deep breath. He pushed away from the bar himself and followed Teddy’s path through the crowd as he headed towards them.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/).


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